


A Journey To Remember

by MiddleEarthLife



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Related, Light Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, The Shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:12:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiddleEarthLife/pseuds/MiddleEarthLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo on his 111th birthday is surprised by the arrival of his old friends- the dwarfs of the Company. <br/>This triggers old feelings, and Bilbo knows for certain why he has to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Surprise

It was the day of Bilbo Baggins’ 111th birthday. The Shire, ever green and peaceful in its seemingly small yet beautiful existence, was filled with excited anticipation and a fair amount of gossip. The Brandybucks and the Tooks in particular, eagerly awaited the music and ale, and many of them were already at work with setting up the banners and the tents, while on the other hand the Sackville Bagginses and other snoopy relations had been gossiping about it ever since the party was announced. 

The Hobbits of the Shire were known for loving simplicity and quiet. They cherished the idea of staying as far from trouble as possible, believing that only then would trouble stay far from them. Yet there were Hobbits like the Tooks, who once in a while did the extraordinary and went on adventures. Bilbo Baggins, when he set out of his home with a company of dwarves 60 years ago, had found the Tookish within him, and it completely ruined the respectability of the name ‘Baggins’, who had before him been known as the most uneventful family in all of Hobbiton. And thus, it was this loss of respect that made sure that every conversation relating to Bilbo was accompanied by curious and crude remarks about his behaviour. For the Bilbo that had returned was not the same. The new Mr Baggins or ‘Mad’ Baggins hardly spoke to his relatives. He spent spent most of his time time indoors, completing mysterious tasks that no one had knowledge of. Some sneaky Hobbits, like the Lobelia Sackville Baggins even tried to secretly investigate his daily actions, but Bilbo was much smarter than them and knew exactly how to avoid being questioned.

On the day of the party, the yellow sun was shining bright, and its rays streamed into the Hobbit hole called Bag End. Through the little round glass window, it illuminated a scene that was anything but new to the inner walls of the beautiful Hobbit hole: that of Bilbo, sitting slouched in his chair, bent over the enormous amounts of parchment that littered his desk. Yet one detail was new for certain, as Bilbo started something that had previously only been imagined in his mind, and dipped his white quill into the pot of ink and put into the first page of an empty book the words, “There and Back Again: A Hobbit’s Tale by Bilbo Baggins.”   
Bilbo had just begun writing an account of the greatest adventure he had in his entire lifetime. The one that changed him for the better. Lifetime: the word rung in Bilbo’s thoughts. It was longer than was expected of a Hobbit to live, all on account of his beloved Ring. A familiar urge crept it’s way to Bilbo’s heart and coursed into his fingers, involuntarily inducing in him the action of setting down his quill, and dipping them into his pocket. He closed his eyes and felt the familiar cold weight as he twirled the object in his fingers. He pulled it out and looked at it with a guilty adoration- one he couldn’t and partly didn’t want to control. He reflected on how lucky he found himself to be, simply to have come across it. The Ring was something that didn’t just save his life on a number of occasions, but seemed to have prolonged it as well. To him, the Ring was lucky. It was Precious beyond measure.  
There was a loud knock on the door. Bilbo jumped on being pulled out of his trance. “No thank you!”, he yelled at whichever troublemaking relative stood outside, “We do not want any visitors, well-wishers or distant relations!” The last thing Bilbo wanted was a group of irritating Hobbits, especially the Sackville Bagginses to snoop around his home and possibly steal some silver-ware. He was far too busy with his book, and had no intentions to allow his peace to be disturbed.   
“And what about very old friends?”, was the answer he heard, originating from a deep voice that he would never forget the sound of. A broad grin appeared across his face. Bilbo couldn’t believe it. After all these years. And suddenly, memories of the best moments of his life flashed through his mind, all of which had occurred by the mere will and provoking nudge of the person who stood outside his door. Forgetting about the ring, Bilbo put it back in his pocket and stood on his feet and trotted happily to open the circular wooden door.

“Gandalf!”, Bilbo exclaimed and the chuckling wizard greeted him with a hug. Gandalf looked as old and weathered a he always did, never ageing and never changing, not even the sparkle in his eyes that seemed to be at the very core of his meddlesome existence. His pointy hat sat high on his sliver head, and his mouth was open in a smile above his silver beard. “Bilbo, my old friend!”, he said. Gandalf was quite shocked to hear of the age that Bilbo had come to live to. A hundred and elven years was no short of a miracle, and Bilbo had hardly even aged! But Gandalf was happy beyond measure nevertheless, for he knew this brave-hearted Hobbit ever since he was a child, who had gone from telling tales of elves and mysterious lands to having travelled to various different lands throughout Middle Earth.   
And before the greetings between the wizard and the Hobbit could extend further, Bilbo gasped in shock to see what stood behind Gandalf. Or rather, who. Dwarfs. And not just any dwarfs. They were Bilbo’s old friends. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Gloin, Dori, Nori and Dwalin. They stood with doted smiles, armed with axes, knives and tools. “Dear Lord!”, Bilbo said and held out his hands on either side of him as he laughed in joyous disbelief. The dwarves too broke out in laughter and cheered as they greeted Bilbo with bone-crushing hugs, rendering Bilbo in a rare state of speechlessness, for he never thought the dwarfs would ever visit Bag End again. 

Dwalin, Gloin and Bifur had not a single strand of their old darker hair left, and every bit of it was as silver as Gandalf’s beard. Yet they continued to proudly hold on to their axes, not at all different from the way they did all those years ago. Dori’s old bald patch had grown quite big, but from the look of his physique, he seemed to still carry his enormous strength. Nori and Bombur had whitening hair, and Bombur it seemed had grown larger than he was when Bilbo last saw him. Bofur still had his ridiculous black hat plopped on his head, and his similarly permanent cheery smile was bright on his face.   
The dwarfs thumped with their heavy boots into Bag End one by one, exchanging with their host statements about the weather and their travels and the party. Bilbo fondly remembered the first time they set foot in Bag End, and smiled at the memory of how annoyed he was at the time. The opportunity of experiencing their arrival yet again was an unexpected and divine blessing that Bilbo was thankful for beyond measure.  
“Your home is just as we remember it.”, Dori chuckled.  
“Ah! I see you’ve replaced the cheese blocks that my brother finished.”, Bofur laughed at the sight of the pantry.  
“I’m going to keep an eye on you, Nori”, Bilbo winked, remembering the dwarf’s habit of stealing shiny objects.  
Gandalf, after hitting his head on Bilbo’s chandelier and his forehead rather painfully on the beam, decided to slouch down while walking through the tiny house.

The guests then passed through to Bilbo’s study, where they stopped short at the sight of the map of the Lonely Mountain that lay carefully framed in wood. Dwalin frowned in sadness and picked up the frame, staring at it in silence. “You’ve saved this have you.”  
“Of course.”, Bilbo said, “I gaze upon it everyday.”  
Everyone nodded understandingly, and Dwalin, after much reflection upon his nostalgia, regretfully and carefully set the map back down, for it had belonged to his dearest and oldest friend, who now remained only in memory.  
And as they did the first time, the company of dwarfs and the wizard continued through Bag End and seated themselves on the long wooden dining table, only this time they were heartily welcomed by Bilbo. He brought out tons of food and tea and the dwarfs ate in gladness of their return to their friend’s home. Bilbo was the one who offered to bring out the food himself this time, with the excuse that the dwarfs must be tired after their journey. They listened to him out of respect, not knowing that in reality, to this day he wasn’t very pleased with the idea of the dwarfs unceremoniously pulling out all of his food.  
As they ate, the dwarfs continued to speak of the progress of Erebor. Gloin would not stop talking about how proud he was of his now grown son Gimli, Nori had developed a new fancy for a rather attractive dwarf maid of the Iron Hills, and Dwalin spoke proudly of the axes he continued to forge even in Erebor. Gandalf added his own inputs about his recent travels to Erebor, all the while blowing impressive smoke rings from his pipe.  
But the question that lurked at the back of Bilbo’s mind since the second of the dwarfs’ arrival finally broke through and he decided to ask, “Are the others on their way? Balin, Oin and Ori?”   
A long silence fell on the chattery table, and to Bilbo’s horror, everyones face fell.  
“You won’t like to hear it laddie”, Dwalin replied, the grief clear in his voice, “My brother set out to reclaim the Mines of Moria. But for many years now, there has been no word from him. Ori, the poor lad went with him. And ever since, they remain silent.”   
“Oin was with them too”, Gloin continued, but said nothing more and shook his head in despair.   
Bilbo closed his eyes and sighed. All those years ago when he returned to the emptiness that awaited him, he had hoped more than anything, for his friends to remain happy in a new Erebor. But his heart crumbled to hear that it was not so. “I am so very sorry”, he mumbled, more to himself than to the dwarfs.

“But tonight we are here to remember them.”, Bofur broke the silence, being his optimistic self. “Tonight, in the celebration of our burglar, we will cheer in the name of the Company.”, he finished and Gandalf and the dwarfs nodded. Little did they know however, that those words stung Bilbo the most. And their absence, his absence, suddenly seemed all the more evident.


	2. The Choice

By nightfall Bilbo and his guests arrived near the party tree when the festivities began, and while loud cheers and hoots greeted the Birthday Hobbit, many curious eyes and whispers greeted the strange dwarfs that accompanied the odd Hobbit. But all oddities were soon forgotten when the music started. Hobbits of all ages danced merrily on the green grass, and forgot their initial nervousness about the wizard and the dwarfs, who soon joined them with their dancing figures standing out tall among the small Hobbit heads.  
Gandalf occasionally illuminated the sky in majestic and enchanting fireworks that had even the adults childishly wonder and gaze in awe. Bilbo drank with the dwarfs and smoked with them for a long while, and being the most important person at the party weaved his way through the crowds, cheerfully greeting all the familiar faces, and occasionally hiding when he caught sight of unwanted guests, all the while cursing them for arriving uninvited. At one point he even recited the story of the trolls to a gathering of innocent, curiosity-stricken children, and with the help of Bofur, the only dwarf who wasn’t scary enough to frighten them away, he succeeded as he always did in inspiring an inquisitive kind of fear in the young hearts, who gasped when Bilbo exclaimed, “…and turned them all to stone!”  
There was even an unexpected occurrence, when Bilbo heard Frodo warning him of a dragon, only for Bilbo to realise that it was one of Gandalf’s giant firecrackers. All the Hobbits, who knew dragons to be nothing more than a part of tales cheered and applauded, while the dwarfs of the Company were certainly not amused.

The night went on with the only sort of trouble that was approved and even liked by the most traditional of Hobbits, and Bilbo was glad to be laughing among them. Yet a constant feeling of emptiness struck his heart in a rhythm like a hammer, slowly yet significantly thumping in a dent on the flesh. Ever since the dwarfs of the Company had arrived, Bilbo’s memory of the quest, although permanently embedded in his thoughts, had become clearer than ever, and he felt less of grief but more of a longing that he could not with certainty place. Was it a longing for being in the mountains? For the scent of the forest air? For the adrenaline that accompanied the smell of smoke and feel of his own blood upon his skin? Or was it simply a longing for his company?  
Bilbo sat on a chair in a corner of the garden where no one could spot him, and held the Ring as he always did, for it convinced him with an oddly reassuring ambiguity that he was safe. A stinging guilt had been haunting him for days since the time he had decided to leave the Shire and Frodo, and it enveloped him again. But his heart needed it- the taste of another journey to the very same place. He had voiced this very plan to the dwarfs that had visited his home. All of them were delighted to hear of the possibility that they would see Bilbo in Erebor once again. They would have travelled back together too, if only it weren’t for Bilbo’s intention to sneak away without attracting attention towards himself. This journey, he believed was his only way to remove the emptiness in his heart.

It was almost time, Bilbo remembered and decided to find the dwarfs and inform them that he was taking his leave. He walked with a ducked head once again through the crowds, and stopped short at a happy yet in a way unwelcoming sight. Frodo and Sam were sat at a table with the dwarfs of the Company, and he could hear them telling his nephew tales about himself, which had the dwarfs themselves roaring in laughter and the two Hobbits laughing with fascination.  
“Bilbo!” Frodo explained with a broad smile and reddened cheeks, his blue eyes twinkling with excitement.  
“My dear boy, what have these lads been telling you about me?”, Bilbo chuckled.  
Bofur laughed, “Nothing he hasn’t heard before it seems.”  
“Save the parts when you managed to make a fool of yourself”, Dwalin remarked and Frodo and the others laughed while Bilbo twitched his nose.  
It was odd, seeing them together. As if two different aspects of Bilbo’s life had merged only to find that they indeed did not fit together, and it made clear to Bilbo, at that very table, how he was choosing one over the other: how he was leaving the one that needed him to find the one that he needed.  
The sight however was not enough to sway Bilbo’s decision. He knew that Frodo would be fine, while he himself wouldn’t if he stayed. How ironic it was, he repeated in his mind for the millionth time, that all he yearned for was to be back again in comfort of his home when he first left, and all he yearned for now, amidst all the comfort that was possible for him to receive, was to be back again in the unpredictable wild.

Bilbo asked Frodo and Sam to excuse themselves, after which each of the dwarfs stood in realisation of what was about to be said. “Well, it has been truly a great honour to have you here.”, Bilbo said and truly meant it. Seeing them so happy once again had fulfilled most of his heart’s desire if not all.  
“So has it been an honour to be here”, said Bifur.  
“Your nephew is much like you Master Baggins,” said Gloin, “What a shame it is that I could not bring Gimli with me. He has heard many tales just like your young one. I believe they would’ve mingled well.”  
“I wish you all the luck in the world, Bilbo.”, Bofur said and laid a hand on his shoulder.  
“We hope to see you once again in Erebor”, said Dwalin  
Dori sniffled and added, “Aye, we will be the ones serving you tea when you do. And lots of it.”

And soon enough, after the hearty goodbyes full of regret, it was time for Bilbo’s speech. There he put on the Ring and disappeared, and chuckled as he hurried back home through the gasping and shocked crowd. He knew Gandalf would find him, and began packing the last of his possessions in his bag. Suddenly, Bilbo paused when he took the book in his hand. For the first time since the arrival of the dwarfs, he let his emotions run freely through him, alone and in the comfort of the walls of his home. He clutched ‘There and Back Again’ tighter in his fingers and closed his eyes. He remembered anew his longing to be in the mountains. He remembered Balin, the one in whom he had found a very dear friend. He remembered Oin and Ori, the kind hearted souls with whom he had been through so much. He remembered Fili and Kili, their inseparable bond and their unshakable bravery and enthusiasm. And then he remembered the one who’s company he longed for the most- Thorin Oakenshield, who to him was just Thorin. The brave and kind friend who above all else admired bravery and loyalty- neither did he deserve what he got. If only he were still alive. A tear escaped Bilbo’s eye and ran cold and fast down his cheek, as he put the book in his bag and heard Gandalf’s knock on the door.

**Author's Note:**

> based on the prompt: Imagine the dwarves being at Bilbo's 111th Birthday Party from imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com


End file.
